


The Les Amis de l'ABC Christmas Spectacular

by Eldalire



Series: Dreaming Dreams [8]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Cute, Family, Fluffy, Funny, Hanukkah, Happy, Holidays, Humor, Kids, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2775212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldalire/pseuds/Eldalire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of 1 shots, all about different Amis and how they spend the holidays.  Modern AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Holly Joly (and Bossuet) Christmas-Hanukkah

“Did I do this right?” Joly asked, standing at the front window, stepping aside to show Bossuet the Menorah, the center and rightmost candle lit.  Bossuet smiled.

            “Close!” he said with a smile, blowing out the candle on the right. “Try the left one.” He smiled.

            “Sorry. I can never remember.” Joly said, using the central candle, the Shamash, to light the leftmost candle.

            “That’s okay.  It’s sort of confusing. I’m just happy you want to do it!”

            “Of course I want to!  You helped me put up the Christmas tree, so I should learn how to light a Menorah the right way.”

            “You did a good job.” Bossuet smiled, pulling Joly into a hug.

            “Glad you think so.” Joly replied, burying his face in Bossuet’s chunky green sweater.  When he pulled away, he looked around.

            “It’s pretty.  You did a good job decorating.” Bossuet smiled.  Joly nodded, but seemed somehow sad.  “What’s wrong?”

            “It’s just quiet, is all…It’s just me and you.”

            “We could have a party.” Bossuet suggested.  Joly shook his head.

            “No…I guess I’m just…I always get to missing my family around this time of year.” Joly was one of five, and his childhood had been filled with plenty of ruckus and noisy holidays.

            “we’re going to your parent’s house Christmas Eve.”

            “You’re right” Joly asked with a smile.

            “And everyone will be there.  All of your brothers and your sister!”

            “What about _your_ parents? Would they come, do you think?”

            “I’ll call them tomorrow.  Hanukkah will be over by Christmas Eve.” Bossuet smiled, sitting on the sofa and pulling Joly down beside him.  “In the mean time, I think I could use a snuggle from my Joly.” Joly rolled his eyes and obliged, hunkering into Bossuet, who draped his arm over his shoulders.

            “I love you quite a lot, did you know that, Bossuet?” Joly asked with a smile.

            “And I love you quite a lot more, Joly.” He replied, leaning in for a kiss, which Joly backed away from.

            “Shower first.” Joly said with a meek smile.  Bossuet laughed.

            “I’ll use the downstairs shower, you go up and I’ll meet you in the bedroom.” Bossuet grinned.

            There were certain rules that one had to follow in order to have very close contact with Joly.  A shower was required, and antibacterial soap must be used.  Joly had only dated two people in his entire life: Musichetta and Bossuet. Though he and Musichetta had fun together through high school, Joly knew some of his quirks drove her crazy. He knew he was a hypochondriac, but he couldn’t tell when he was actually ill, or when he was just having an ‘episode’, as Musichetta had called them.  He would always back out of dates because he wasn’t feeling well, and wouldn’t hold her hand unless she washed it—no hand sanitizer, only soap and water.  He had terrible mysophobia, and kept himself and his house meticulously clean.  Every time he was anywhere where cleanliness was out of his control, he wouldn’t touch anything.  Just being out in the ‘contaminated’ air seemed to make him nervous. He carried Lysol wipes everywhere. He knew it made him difficult to be around, and even harder to really love, but Bossuet easily overlooked all of Joly’s quirks and disorders, and since being together, Joly had skipped less outings and wasn’t ‘ill’ nearly as often.  He was still fearful of germs, but he was getting much better, and he loved his job as a pediatrician so much that he allowed himself to overlook the germs. Bossuet was really Joly’s miracle, and Joly loved him for it.  He loved him so much for the simple fact that he loved him.

 

—o0o—

 

Two quick showers later, Bossuet met Joly in the upstairs bedroom.  He found him sitting on the bed in a big bedtime sweatshirt and Christmas green boxer shorts with candy canes.  He grinned when he heard Bossuet enter.

            “Hey snuggle bug.” Joly greeted him as he crawled across the bed.

            “Hello my dear.” He replied, laying Joly back on the bed and giving him a kiss, which Joly gladly returned.  He ran his fingers over Bossuet’s head, scratching lightly at his hairless scalp. He hummed in reply, propping himself up on his elbow and running his hand gently up and down Joly’s side.

            “Tired?” Joly asked.  Bossuet nodded.

            “A little bit.” He smiled meekly, continuing running his hand down Joly’s side, over his hip and to the rubbery top of his prosthetic leg.

            “Want me to take it off?” Joly asked, sitting up.

            “It doesn’t matter to me.” Bossuet smiled.  “Might want to, though, in case we fall asleep.” He added.

            “Yeah huh?” Joly agreed, scooting to the side of the bed and pressing the release button on the side of his prosthetic thigh, tugging on it to get what was left of his leg out.  Once it was removed, he rolled off the silicone cover and placed it gingerly inside his leg, laying it down beside the bed.

            “’You know I thought that thing was so cool in high school?” Bossuet said with a chuckle.  Joly laughed.

            “It’s not that cool!  It’s just a pole with a foot.” He joked.

            “I think it’s cool.” Bossuet said, running his hand down Joly’s leg. Joly laughed.

            “No don’t look at it it’s weird!” he chuckled.

            “It’s not weird it’s fine!” Bossuet said soothingly, holding Joly close, kissing his hair.  “I’ve seen it a thousand times I freaking take the fake one off half the time because you can’t pull it hard enough!” he added with a chuckle.

            “It’s gross and floppy.” Joly said, closing his eyes, snuggled against Bossuet’s strong chest.

            “You’re not gross.  You’re perfect.” Joly chuckled again.

            “Tell me, Bossuet, are you familiar with Abasiophilia?”

            “No what is it?”

            “The attraction to persons with mobility impairment…Like having one leg.” He explained.

            “Well, I love you, and I guess you count as mobility impaired, so yes, I have that.” He laughed.

            “No seriously!” Joly said, sitting up.  “Is that why you like me so much?” he asked, not angry so much as curious.

            “No.” Bossuet replied, “I love you so much because you’re my Joly. I would love you just as much if you had both legs or no legs or no arms or whatever.  Just as long as you’re my Joly, you can be sure that’s why I love you.”  Joly smiled and hunkered back down under the covers beside Bossuet.

            “I love you.”

            “I love you too.  Want to make latkes tomorrow?”  Joly nodded against his chest.

            “I like them.”

            “We can make Sufganiyot too.” He suggested, draping his arm around Joly, snuggling him nice and close.

            “I don’t remember what those are.” Joly admitted.

            “Jelly doughnuts.” Bossuet laughed.

            “I like them too.” Joly smiled.  “We could make them Christmas night too, for the 13-desert extravaganza.”

            “Oh my God that is my favorite Christmas thing.” Bossuet smiled. Joly’s mother was very traditional when it came to holidays, and always made the customary French Christmas dinner: oysters and pat de foie gras, lobster, a thousand different cheeses, candied sweet potatoes, fruits, breads, cakes, salads, everything! This was all followed by desert, consisting of 13 different confections and sweets, all home made by Joly’s family for Christmas dinner at his parent’s house. 

            “I like putting up the _Santons_.” Joly smiled.  Though Joly liked putting up a Christmas tree, which was not especially common in France, he also liked keeping with the traditional decoration: a collection of small figurines of saints and other important figures.  Joly set them all up on the front windowsill, precisely the way he had as a child.  That was his job: since he was the youngest of the five, he was only allowed to play with the small figurines while everyone else decorated the Christmas tree with delicate ornaments they were frightened he would drop.

            “I never heard of those until I met you.” Bossuet said sleepily.

            “I guess it’s sort of strange.” Joly smiled with a drowsy sigh.

            “I can’t wait for Christmas.”

            “But you have seven whole days of Hanukkah!” Jolys miled.

            “But you get 13 entire desserts!” Bossuet retorted.  Joly laughed.

 

—o0o—

 

            “Oh Bossuet I’m so happy to see you!” Joly’s mother, Lin, cooed as she ran to him, still in her oven mitts, and gave him a massive hug. She was very short, only about 4’10, and Bossuet towered above her when she hugged his waist.

            “Hey Lin.” He replied with a smile.

            “Been taking care of our Stumpy for us?” Joly’s sister, Abella, joked, draping one of her pudgy arms over Joly’s scrawny shoulders.  She was far taller than he, taking after their father, and was nearly a head above Joly.  Joly smiled meekly and blushed at the joking nickname.

            “I’d say he’s been taking care of me.” Bossuet grinned.

            “Joly’s here!” A woman with beautiful, dark skin and hair shaved short said, peeking around the door before looking back into the living room. A young man, Joly’s older brother Kari, hurried into the kitchen with the woman, both of them giving Joly hugs, again, both of them far taller than he.

            “Hey you guys!” Joly smiled.  “Nice to see you, Amina!” he said to the young woman.  “This is Bossuet, I don’t think you’ve met yet. Bossuet, this is Amina. She’s Kari’s wife.” Bossuet smiled and shook her hand.  “Is Clara here?” Joly continued.

            “Yeah. She’s upstairs playing. She’s having a bit of a hard day. Out of her routine and everything.” Kari explained with a little smile.  Clara was his daughter, and she had down syndrome.  “You should go up, though.  She loves you, Joly!  She’s been talking about you all day!” he added.

            “Not until I get a hug from baby brother Stumpy.” Joly’s second older brother, Henry, said.  He was closer to Joly’s height, and gave him a proper hug.  Bossuet laughed at Joly’s apparent family nickname.

            “How has America been?” Joly asked.

            “Pretty good, Joly, but I’ve missed our typical French portions. Americans make everything bigger! A large soda here is a small there!”

            “Good lord you’d burst with that much fizz!” Amina joked. Everyone laughed. A moment later, Abella entered the kitchen again, a young girl holding her hand.  Joly crouched down and opened his arms to her for a hug.

            “Joly!” she called, hurrying to him and falling into his arms.

            “Hello, Clara!  How have you been?” he asked the little girl.

            “Who’s that?” she asked, looking up to Bossuet with her pretty, dark eyes.

            “You remember Bossuet, don’t you, Clara?” Kari said, giving his daughter a little rub on the back.

            “The man with the chocolate?” she said.  Bossuet laughed and retrieved a candy bar from his pocket. Joly told him to bring one for her, seeing as she loved chocolate and it helped her remember who he was. She grinned as he handed it to her.

            “It’s nice to see you again, Clara.” Bossuet smiled.

            “I have this doll!” she grinned, showing Bossuet her Barbie.

            “She’s pretty!  Did you put her dress on?” he asked.

            “Her name is Nia!” Clara explained.

            “Very cool.  I have a cousin named Nia.” Bossuet continued.

            “Well you’ve cheered up, haven’t you, Clara?” Kari said, scooping up his daughter and holding her close.  Though she was eight, she was very small, and could have passed for a four year old. She squealed and giggled in her daddy’s arms.  Amina laughed.

            “Where’s Curtis?” Joly asked, turning to his mother, who was standing at the stove with Abella.

            “He’s in the basement with your father and the dog.  Turk was scaring Clara.” Lin explained.

            “He knocked me down!” Clara explained from Kari’s arms. Turk was Curtis’ Boarder Collie, and though the dog was sweet and gentle, he was a bit hyperactive and liked running around.

            “Curtis! Joly and Bossuet are here!” Henry called down the basement stairs.  Curtis hurried up  and flew at Joly, picking him up.  Bossuet smiled. He got along well with Curtis, seeing as they shared a common interest in boxing and body building. Their arms were nearly the same size—about the same size as Joly’s thigh, and they often talked about different ways to lift and train to stay in optimal shape.

            “Hey Stumpy!” he said.  Bossuet laughed again. Joly must have been putting up with that name since he was seven, seeing as it barely phased him anymore.

            “Stop calling him that, the poor thing!” Lin chimed in, though she too was laughing.

            “Hello, Curtis.” Joly replied with a chuckle into his brother’s chest, seeing as that’s where he was being held, too tightly to wiggle free.

            “There’s my little one!” Joly’s father, Pascal, said with a smile. He was a very tall man with dark hair and eyes.  He gave Joly a hug.

            “Hello, Baba!” Joly replied.

            “And Bossuet!  A pleasure as always!” he added, giving Joly a strong embrace as well.

            “Alright, everyone!  Sit! Sit! Sit! Dinner’s ready! Everyone grab a dish and take it to the table!” Lin called.  She didn’t have to ask twice.

 

—o0o—

 

After dinner and all thirteen desserts, everyone moved into the family room to watch Christmas Vacation—a long running tradition Joly’s family had continued for over twenty years. Curtis sat on the floor in front of the loveseat, Turk laying at his side.  Lin and Pascal sat just behind him.  Abella took the end of the sectional—the section acting as an ataman, and Amina and Kari took the short side just beside her, Clara asleep in Kari’s lap. Joly and Bossuet snuggled into the corner, leaving room for Henry beside the arm.  It was funny, how all of them assumed the seats they had taken as children, save for Curtis, who usually took Abella’s seat, and Abella, who was usually in Amina’s seat.  Joly leaned against Bossuet, who snuggled him up nice and close.

            “I love this couch.” Joly said quietly.

            “Yeah. You got to know it really well, with all of your ailments.” Abella teased.  As the youngest, Joly was often the butt of jokes.

            “And when you got your stump.” Henry added.  Bossuet smiled a little.  Nobody ever said that Joly ‘lost a leg’; only that he had ‘gained a stump’. It was a nice way to think of it, and Bossuet found it very endearing.  Joly laughed meekly.

            “Didn’t I tell you to leave poor Joly alone?!” Lin scolded. “Tell me, Henry, are you still twelve?” Everyone laughed.

            “Shut up this is the part where they blow up the cat!” Kari said.

            “And your daughter is asleep.” Amina joked.

 

After the movie, Bossuet made a strange sort of face.

            “What is it, Bossuet?  Don’t like Christmas Vacation?” Curtis asked.

            “Oh no, it’s great, I just…This all could have been avoided with a Menorah.” Everyone laughed.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~Yay Christmas is coming!  I tried to include lots of different family dynamics and situations and religions to make everyone feel nice and included!  Anybody have suggestions?  Any interesting traditions you want me to try to include with your favorite Amis?  Drop a line!  I like ideas!


	2. Courfeyrac and Combeferre's very Lakota Christmas

            “Courfeyrac?” Combeferre called from the kitchen, hanging up the phone.

            “What’s up?” Courfeyrac asked, walking into the kitchen with the help of his cane. He had been in a bad car accident the autumn before that left him with a traumatic brain injury. He had to walk with the aid of a cane and had difficulty doing fragile things with his hands, but overall, he had recovered well, and was generally happy.

            “I have a proposition to make.” He replied.

            “What is that?”

            “How would you like to visit my family in America this Christmas?”

            “America? Sure!  We’ve always spent Christmas with my family. I guess I owe you, huh?” he smiled.

            “Oh I’m so happy you want to go, Mon Amour!” Combeferre wrapped Courfeyrac in his long, skinny arms.  “It will such great fun, I promise!” he cooed.

            Combeferre’s father as a Native American from the Ogalala Sioux tribe of South Dakota. His parents met when his mother traveled for university.  Combeferre was born in America, and his father’s family still lived there, though both of his parents now lived in France.

            “Let’s book a flight!” Courfeyrac smiled, returning the embrace.

 

—o0o—

 

Combeferre pushed Courfeyrac through the airport in a wheelchair, two of their bags on his lap, the other two over Combeferre’s shoulders.  It was difficult for Courfeyrac to walk very quickly with his limp and cane, and they decided a wheelchair would be best, particularly for crowd navigation. People tend to get out of the way for a wheelchair, and the airport was extremely crowded just two days before Christmas. 

            “Is your mom still picking us up?” Courfeyrac asked, looking up to Combeferre.

            “She is.  She said she would meet us out front.” He explained.  A kind, passing woman held the door for them and Combeferre quickly sighted his mother leaning against an SUV.  She hurried over and gave both of them a hug.

            “I’m so glad you decided to come!” she said with a smile, taking the luggage from Courfeyrac’s lap and placing them in the back of the car. “How was the flight?”

            “Long…!” Courfeyrac said with a chuckle.  “But good.”

            “We had a layover and spent the morning in New York City.” Combeferre added with a smile, placing the two bags he had over his shoulder into the trunk of the car as well.  “Courfeyrac had never been before.”

            “And how did you find it, Dearest?” his mother asked with a smile.

            “Very busy!  Very noisy!” he chuckled. “Not unlike Paris around the Eifel Tower.”

            “There is so much snow here!” Combeferre noted, helping Courfeyrac into the passenger seat of the car before climbing into the back.

            “It’s been very cold!  Your Papa is so very excited to see Courfeyrac!” she smiled, turning to him.

            “I haven’t seen him in a very long time.”

            “And what are your mother and father doing this Christmas?” she continued. “They could have come if they wanted to. The more the merrier!”

            “Oh they were actually quite happy when I told them I would be away. They’re having their first Christmas alone since I was born!  My mother said they were going out to dinner, then watching black and white movies all night long.” He explained.  His parents were very much home bodies, and didn’t like much excitement.  Combeferre’s mother laughed.

 

—o0o—

 

After a long car ride, they finally pulled up to a small town within the Cheyenne River Reservation. Though many of the houses were run down and covered with tarps, it seemed Combeferre’s family lived in newer, better-built homes.  They were welcomed by a plethora of waves and shouts from a large group, all waiting for them on the porch of one of the small houses.  Combeferre immediately recognized them all and leapt from the back seat of the car, running to meet them and giving them all hugs.  He was an odd combination of alike and different from the Lakota people surrounding him. He was far skinnier than the good majority of them.  It wasn’t at all that they were overweight, simply built differently, stockier, stronger. Combeferre was lanky and boney—a beanpole.  His features were also very European, with his long, delicate nose and precise jaw. His relatives had relatively rounded faces and strong, curved noses.  He did, however, share their deep brown eyes and rich mahogany skin.

            “Our little Skinny Rabbit is all grown up!” an older woman said, reaching up and taking Combeferre’s cheeks in her hands, pulling him down and into an embrace, which he returned.

            “It has not been that long, Grandmother!” he replied with a smile.

            “You are still too skinny, Combeferre!” a younger man said, giving Combeferre a playful slap on the back.

            “But I am still taller than you are, Chaska!” Combeferre joked. He was, in fact, a few inches taller than the other young man.

            “And who is this handsome man, Combeferre?” a woman about Combeferre’s mother’s age asked, eyeing Courfeyrac as he made his way over, his eyes bright and his step cheerful, though he needed his cane.

            “Oh! Everyone, this is Courfeyrac,” Combeferre announced, meeting Courfeyrac at the bottom of the porch steps. Many of Combeferre’s relatives came down to meet him as well.  “He is very dear to me.” He smiled, and Courfeyrac leaned against his shoulder, suddenly bashful.  Though he was usually outgoing, he was a bit nervous in this brand new place, and with these people he did not know.

            “How ‘dear’, Combeferre?” the same woman, Zonta, asked with a bit of a smirk. Combeferre smiled meekly and looked down to his feet for a moment.

            “He is my fiancé.” He said.  The entire group hollered and clapped.

            “Our shy little Rabbit has finally found someone who will put up with him?” The young man, Chaska, teased. 

            “I think he puts up with me!” Courfeyrac replied with a chuckle.

            “Never, Mon Amour.” Combeferre replied to him. 

            “Well come inside!  Do not let the skinny thing freeze to death!” The elderly woman called from the door. The group filed inside, where yet more family members sat at a sofa, watching reruns of football games on a small TV. One of them stood the instant Combeferre and Courfeyrac entered the room, quickly followed by the others.

            “Combeferre!” the man shouted with a grin.

            “Hello Papa!” Combeferre said with a smile, embracing the man.

            “And Courfeyrac, how have you been faring?  I have not seen you since the accident.”

            “I’m doing alright, thank you.  Doctor says I’ll need a cane for the rest of my walking days, but that’s alright.” He smiled.

            “What happened?” a young girl, Combeferre’s little cousin, asked from where she sat at the nearby kitchen counter.

            “Talutah! That is rude!” a woman, her mother, scolded.

            “I’m sorry…” she mumbled.

            “It’s alright.  I was in a car accident.” Courfeyrac replied with a smile.

            “It is a good cane,” An older man said, studying Courfeyrac’s carved wooden cane.  “Did someone make it?” he asked, smiling.

            “Combeferre’s father did!” he replied.

            “It is very well made.” He smiled again, turning his head to look at Combeferre’s father, Takoda.

            “Very much appreciated!  Please sit, Courfeyrac.  Your legs are shaking.” Takoda said, offering Courfeyrac a chair, which he took gratefully.

            “Thank you.” he said.  Combeferre stood behind him quietly, his usual demeanor. 

            “Combeferre you have not changed at all!” Zonta said from where she stood in the kitchen beside Combeferre’s aunt, who was called Wichapi. “You are still our quiet, shy, Skinny Rabbit.” The rest of the family chuckled and nodded in agreement.

            “Why is he called Skinny Rabbit?  Does everyone get an animal name?”

            “It is not an animal name, Courfeyrac, it is a totem. I am Rabbit because when I was small, the Chief saw me in a dream, and that dream directed him to my name.”

            “It fits you.  You are so shy and skittish!” Grandmother said.

            “And he is called Skinny because he is too skinny.” Zonta added. Everyone laughed, Combeferre blushed.

            “What are all of your totems, then?” Courfeyrac asked, looking around the small living room and kitchen, filled to bursting with Combeferre’s family.

            “I am Singing Magpie.” Zonta said proudly. 

            “Because you talk far too much!” Wichapi said.  The room erupted into laughter.  “my totem animal is a brown mouse.” She continued.

            “I am Splashing Turtle!” the young girl shouted excitedly after her mother. “But my real name is Talutah.” Courfeyrac smiled.

            “My mother’s totem is a fox.” Combeferre explained, looking to his mother, who stirred a pot in the kitchen.  She smiled.

            “Takoda is Whittling Wren.” Chaska explained.  Takoda nodded.

            “Why don’t you tell him your totem, Chaska?”

            “Mine is a bee.” He smiled.

            “The Chief tells you what your totem is?” Courfeyrac asked, curious.

            “Sometimes. Sometimes you do not get one. It depends upon if she has a dream with your totem.” Takoda explained.

            “We should ask for Courfeyrac’s totem.” Combeferre said with a smile.

            “That would be a wonderful Christmas present!” Combeferre’s mother said.

            “You are lucky I like you.  You ask me for so many things!” the elderly woman Combeferre called Grandmother said from where she sat at the table in the corner.

            “You are the Chief?” Courfeyrac asked.

            “I am.” She smiled.  “You may call me Grandmother.”

            “I would be very grateful to know my totem animal, if I have one.” Courfeyrac said humbly.

            “We will see.” She smiled again. 

 

—o0o—

 

The next day was Christmas morning, and Courfeyrac was surprised at how familiar the atmosphere was. He felt very at home, despite being an ocean away.  The Christmas tree in the corner was flooded with lights and ornaments, and stood in a puddle of wrapped gifts. 

            “Merry Christmas, Mon Amour.” Combeferre whispered to Courfeyrac as they sat together on the armchair, Courfeyrac on Combeferre’s lap. They shared a small, quick kiss, and when they did, at least three cameras flashed.  Combeferre blushed.

            “Oh goodness…” Combeferre covered his face in his long, lanky hands, and his family laughed.  “Am I not allowed to kiss my love without an audience?” he joked.  Courfeyrac laughed.

            “You should do it again.  I missed it!” Zonta said, looking at the pictures on her camera.  Combeferre began to roll his eyes, but he was cut short by Courfeyrac taking his chin and turning his head, pulling him into a far-too-dramatic kiss.  Combeferre startled, and Zonta got her picture.  Everyone else got a good laugh.

            “Enough of that!  Present time!” Wichapi said with a clap, sitting beneath the tree and reading the tag on the first box.  “To Talutah from Chaska.” She read, passing the box to the young girl.  She smiled up at her cousin and unwrapped the box, revealing a copy of Frozen on DVD, as well as a small jewelry box containing a crystal rose on a silver chain.  Talutah was delighted.

            “Oh thank you, Chaska!” she cooed, giving him a big hug. “This one is for you from me!” she said, handing him a small box with a terribly messy wrap job. She was not very good with wrapping paper, but he smiled anyhow, opening it carefully and revealing a scarf of every color, with lots of holes and missed stiches.

            “Did you make this, Talutah?” he asked, looking the scarf over. She nodded enthusiastically.

            “Yes it is the first one I ever made in my whole life! I was working on it since summertime!” she said proudly.

            “It is beautiful.  I will wear it always.” Chaska replied, wrapping the scarf around his neck. Talutah grinned.

            “This one is from Talutah to her cousin Combeferre.” Wichapi read next, handing Combeferre his own badly wrapped box.  He opened it as Courfeyrac moved out of the way and onto the arm of the chair.  He revealed a pair of crocheted mittens, also riddled with holes and missed stiches.  They were bright blue with yellow thumbs, and very, very soft.

            “Thank you so much, Talutah!  These are wonderful!”  She beamed. “You have been quite busy with your yarn this year, haven’t you?” 

            “Very, VERY busy!” she agreed.  “Sorry I don’t have anything for you, Courfeyrac.  I didn’t know you were coming!” she apologized.

            “That’s alright, Talutah.  I haven’t brought any gifts for you either…only Combeferre’s mother and father. I’m sorry as well!” he smiled. Everyone returned his smile in acceptance of his needless apologies. 

 

After opening gifts, everyone sat with hot chocolate, simply talking and laughing amongst themselves until Grandmother entered the house.

            “Good morning, Grandmother!” Talutah said, running to the old woman and giving her a hug.

            “Happy Christmas, Talutah!” she replied.  “I have a very important gift to give to Courfeyrac.” She said with a big smile. 

            “Really? For me?” Courfeyrac asked, inspecting the long, thin, velvet bag she held.

            “Yes. For you!” she said, walking over to Combeferre and Courfeyrac on the armchair and handing him his gift.

            “Should I open it now?” he asked.

            “Of course you should!” Grandmother replied with a nod. Courfeyrac carefully tugged open the drawstring on the bag and removed the first of a few items: a golden feather.

            Courfeyrac turned it over and over in his hands, smiling lightly. Combeferre was near tears, and everyone in the room was in awe, but Courfeyrac did not know why.

            “What? Have I done something wrong?” he asked, worried, his eyes flashing to everyone in the room, taking in their reactions.

            “Oh no.  No not at all, Mon Amour.” Combeferre held him in a tight hug.  “You have received a great honor.  Only someone very brave who has lived through great hardship is awarded a golden eagle’s feather.”

            “I can’t take this, then.” Courfeyrac said, attempting to give the feather back to Grandmother, but she refused.  “But I haven’t done anything very brave…” he admitted.

            “You walk with a cane because you were in an accident, yes?” Grandmother asked.

            “Yes, but I wouldn’t call it a test of bravery…I don’t even remember it.”

            “But it _was_ an _incredible_ test of bravery and strength. Combeferre came to me last night to speak to me about your totem, you know this.”

            “Yes…” Courfeyrac replied, looking between Combeferre and Grandmother, confused.

            “He tells me you could not speak properly or walk on your own for many months after the accident; that you suffered greatly.  But through that suffering, you continued, and you have come through your hardship.  But most admirably of all, you have managed to regain your happiness, even though you are no longer the same as before.  You have earned this feather, Courfeyrac.” She explained.  The delicate feather suddenly seemed heavier in Courfeyrac’s hands—heavy with meaning.  He had no words, and could only admire it quietly for a long moment before placing it carefully back into the velvet bag.

            “Could I keep it in here?  Will it be safe?” he asked as he did so.

            “Yes. Keep it there and it will be nice and safe!  But look at the rest as well!” Grandmother instructed.  Courfeyrac smiled and reached beside the feather and into the bottom of the bag, where he grabbed what felt like a leather cord.  When he removed it, he found that it was in fact two cords with matching stones on the ends.  Combeferre smiled.

            “Grandmother!” he said with a small, meek laugh. 

            “You said you loved each other, and these are to show that I have blessed your relationship to be long and successful.  And that your marriage will be a prosperous one, if you should decide to marry.” She smiled.  Courfeyrac grinned, placing one of the necklaces around Combeferre’s neck, the other around his own.  He studied the carvings on the cords, and realized after a moment that they were stylized feathers, both crafted of bright agate stone.

            “Thank you.  These are beautiful.” Courfeyrac said, opening his arms for a hug.  But Grandmother only smiled.

            “No hugs until you’ve opened the last gift.” She said, looking back to the velvet bag.  Courfeyrac reached back inside, removing what appeared to be a jewelry box, like the ones rings come in from the store, but inside was something very different. Sitting in the cottony fluff at the bottom of the shallow box sat a small animal carved in turquoise. It wore a small stone ‘backpack’ tied on with a thin piece of sinew, its eyes were onyx black and bright. Courfeyrac smiled.

            “It’s very sweet,” he said, turning it over and over in his hands. “But what animal is it?” he asked.

            “That is your totem animal, and he is a wolf.” She explained. Courfeyrac smiled.

            “Really? I have a totem animal?” he said, ecstatic.  Grandmother nodded. “What does it mean?” he asked.

            “The wolf stands for loyalty and friendship, which you have found in our Combeferre.  He also stands for perseverance, which you have demonstrated, and he stands for success, which you have accomplished.” She smiled again.  Courfeyrac leaned into Combeferre and gave him a hug, so happy he couldn’t think what to do with himself.

            “Who would have thought,” Combeferre began, “that a rabbit and a wolf could hold each other so dear?” Courfeyrac couldn’t help but smile wider still.

            “This is the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten.” He said. And he meant it, too.    
  
  
  
  
~I visited South Dakota a few summers ago, and was simply enchanted by the local Ogalala Souix and Lakota tribes that lived there.  I wanted to write about them and their customs because I thought they were really cool.  I hope I got everything right...I did quite a bit of research to make sure I got all of the customs correct!  If not, do tell.  I'd like to learn more!   
  
Thanks for reading!  Who next?


	3. A Perfectly Prouvaire Christmas

Jehan was positively flustered.  Not that Jehan wasn’t _always_ some level of flustered, but he was especially flustered on Christmas Eve.  He was running all over the house, setting everything up just so, so that Lyle’s first Christmas with them would be absolutely flawless. He had rearranged the gifts under their massive Christmas tree at least four times; first randomly, how Feuilly put them down.  Next he tried by size, but that seemed too organized and took the fun out of it. He also tried by color, but for some reason that rubbed him wrong, even though all of the boxes were wrapped in coordinating floral wallpaper-turned-wrapping-paper. Finally Feuilly dragged him away from the Christmas tree and told him he wasn’t allowed to touch the boxes anymore.

            So instead of fussing with the boxes, he fussed with the cookies Lyle left out for Santa.

            Lyle was thirteen, and he knew the truth about Santa—that he was more of an idea than an actual person, and that parents were really the ones responsible—but his biological father never gave him a real Christmas growing up. Jehan and Feuilly never got to be Santa, so Lyle put out cookies and carrots (for the Reindeer) anyway, just for the fun of it.  Jehan couldn’t decide if he should just take a bite of a cookie and half a carrot, or if Santa would just take it all.  But surely he got carrots and cookies at other houses!  And what about the milk?  Should he finish that? Should he write a witty Santa note about how much he likes coconut milk?  Should he dunk a cookie in the milk and put it back on the dish? Do Reindeer even like carrots? He sat on the sofa, pondering the plate of cookies with his hands supporting his head, loose tendrils of his reddish hair falling around his face.

            “What are you doing?” Feuilly asked, taking a cookie and eating it. Jehan startled and looked up at him.

            “Well I wasn’t sure if we should eat the cookies, or just take a bite, or…do reindeer eat carrots?  I don’t think there are carrots in the tundra…”

            “Go to bed, Jean Prouvaire.” Feuilly said with a laugh, his mouth full of cookie.

            “But there are more things to do!  We have to…we have to…” he looked around the room frantically, until his vision was blocked by Feuilly, who leaned over and gave him a kiss.

            “You smell like cookies.” Jehan said with a smile.

            “You smell like sunshine.” Feuilly replied.  “Let’s go up to bed.  We have to get up early with Lyle.” He took Jehan’s hand, pulling his light frame up, off the sofa, and into a hug, completely engulfing little Jehan in his big, strong arms.

            “I just want everything to be perfect for him…” Jehan said quietly as they walked up the stairs.

            “I know.  And it is perfect. You did everything! You even made all of those little paper balloons and put them on the Christmas lights to make lanterns! Everything is great. You did a great job, Baby Doll. I love you.”

            “I love you too, Dearest.” Jehan replied, sitting down on the bed and stretching his skinny arms above his head.  Feuilly brushed his teeth then hunkered down beside him.

            “Goodnight, Jehan.”

            “Goodnight, My Dear.” Jehan cooed, snuggling up against him, under the covers.

 

—o0o—

 

Lyle crept into Jehan and Feuilly’s room the next morning around 6:30, and gave Jehan a tap on the nose to wake him up.  The young boy smiled when his daddy’s eyes fluttered open.

            “Merry Christmas, Lyle!” he said quietly, sitting up and pulling Lyle into a hug. Feuilly sat up as well, the movement waking him, and he smiled.

            “Ready for presents?” he asked with a grin.

            “Yes please.” Lyle cooed.

            “Presents then church!” Jehan said.  “It’s Jesus’ birthday.  We can’t forget.” He smiled.  Jehan had been raised in a relatively orthodox catholic family, however loose and liberal they were with the religion, and they always went to church on Christmas and Easter, as well as most Sundays.  Because Feuilly hadn’t really celebrated anything as a child, and was unfamiliar with church and the lot, they had slacked off a bit, but they still went on Christmas and Easter—Jehan insisted on it.

            “Okay!” Lyle smiled.

            “Wait, let me go down first and get the video camera.” Feuilly said, peeling himself up out of bed and pulling on a sweatshirt.  He hurried down the stairs, and a moment later, called for Lyle and Jehan.  Lyle scurried out into the hallway, leaning over the banister.

            “What are you waiting for?” Feuilly asked with a chuckle. Jehan giggled as Lyle vaulted down the stairs, sliding on his socks to the two-story-tall Christmas tree that stood in the middle of the living room.

            “Santa ate my cookies.” Lyle said with a grin, looking to Jehan and Feuilly.

            “Feuilly-Santa ate the cookies.  Jehan-Santa ate the carrots.” Jehan smiled, his cheeks turning a lovely shade of peachy pink.

            “Open the presents.” Feuilly said from behind the camera, focusing on Lyle. He sat down in front of the ataman Jehan was seated on, then took one of the gifts into his lap.

            “These are all for me?” he asked.

            “Most of them.  Some of them are for Jehan.”

            “And you, Feuilly, Lyle and I brought gifts for you too!” Jehan cooed, running his hands through Lyle’s shoulder-length hair, putting it into braids as Lyle opened the first box.

            “This is a very big box!” Lyle said, carefully removing the paper. He smiled when he revealed a wooden structure with a little door and window, as well as a hole in the top.

            “Oh it’s a home for Flower!” Lyle cooed.  “I have to go get him!” he stood and ran to the small office space where the computer resided, and hopped the baby-gate in the doorway, quickly retrieving his lop-eared bunny and returning to the Christmas tree. He set the little rabbit home onto the carpet, and Flower immediately hopped over to inspect it, quickly deciding it was cozy and safe and returning to his nap inside.

            “Feuilly made it.” Jehan explained, sitting cross-legged on the ataman.

            “Thank you, Dad.” Lyle smiled, giving Feuilly a hug.

            “Any time, Kiddo.” Feuilly said with a smile, returning the embrace.

            “Open another, Lyle!” Jehan cooed.  “I’ll make hot chocolate and cinnamon buns!”

            “okay!” Lyle said, taking another, smaller box into his lap and opening it carefully.

 

—o0o—

 

Lyle opened a few more gifts, including new clothes, flower seeds, scarves, a microwave-flower-presser, and a Chia pet from Feuilly as a joke—Lyle had received one from Grantaire for his birthday that year, and had more or less started collecting them. Everyone gave them to him for holidays and occasions, and the window sill in his room was filled with little leafy animals.  He also got a big intricate fan from Feuilly, and a scarf Jehan knitted. 

            “Who wants a cinnamon bun?!” Jehan called, carrying in a glass pie dish into the living room with his pink and green oven mitts.  He placed it and three dishes down onto the coffee table.

            “They smell good!” Lyle said with a smile, taking a bun out of the dish and quickly placing it onto one of the plates.  It was too hot to hold, and he sucked the frosting off his fingers. Feuilly bit right into his, his calloused fingers easily taking the heat.  Jehan pulled his apart with a fork and ate it carefully, taking little pieces at a time. 

            “Have your present, Jehan.” Feuilly said, handing him a box. Jehan set down his dish and fork carefully, taking the gift and unwrapping it carefully.

            “What is it, Daddy?” Lyle asked, sitting on the floor, Flower in his lap. Jehan smiled as he pulled a knitted hat from the box.  It was pale pink with two long, floppy bunny ears.

            “Feuilly this is adorable!” Jehan cooed, pulling it over his hair with a smile. It had two little eyes embroidered on the front, and the inside of the ears were lined with satin.

            “I’m going to steal that!” Lyle said with a smile, running his hand down his bunny’s back.

            “I got Joly to knit it for you.” Feuilly smiled. 

            “Oh I love it, thank you Dearest.” Jehan sang, standing and giving Feuilly a hug. 

            “Daddy and me got you a present too, Dad…sort of!” Lyle smiled, crawling behind the tree and retrieving a small wrapped box.

            “Sort of?” Feuilly asked, unwrapping the box, raising an eyebrow.

            “Open it, you’ll see!” Jehan said, sitting on the ataman, holding his hat and playing with his simple engagement ring.  Feuilly opened the box, and inside were three thin, silver chains, on the end of each was strung three small charms: one with a rose, one with a bird, and one with a golden heart.

            “We all get a matching one!” Lyle explained with a smile. “The flower is Daddy, the bird one is me, and you’re the one with the golden heart.” He smiled.

            “How come I’m the golden heart?” Feuilly asked, stringing one of the necklaces around his own neck, then fastening Lyle’s.

            “We didn’t think a golden tooth would look quite as nice.” Jehan said with a smile.  Lyle laughed at the joke.

            “No, it’s because you have the biggest heart of all of us.” Lyle clarified with a smile.

            “I think you should be the golden heart, Lyle.” Feuilly replied, pulling the little boy into a hug.  “You’re the kindest of all of us.”

            “Love you, Dad.” Lyle said into Feuilly’s shoulder.

            “And we love you so much, Lovely.” Jehan added, sitting behind Feuilly and resting against his shoulder.

            “This is my first real Christmas, you know.” Lyle said.

            “We know.” Feuilly replied with a grin.  “That’s why we stayed up so late.  We wanted your first real Christmas to be perfect.”

            “I think it was perfect.” Lyle smiled.

            “Now let’s get dressed!  We have to go to Christmas Morning Church!” Jehan cooed, standing.

            “Can I wear my Christmas tights?” Lyle asked.    

            “Of course you can my dear!” Jehan said, following Lyle upstairs.

            “Can I go like this?” Feuilly asked jokingly from the sofa in his flannel reindeer pajama pants.

            “No you may not.” Jehan said, peeking around the wall from the stairs, smiling warmly.  Feuilly nodded, following Jehan and Lyle upstairs.

            “I like Christmas.” Feuilly said relatively randomly. He wasn’t very good at the whole ‘conversation’ thing, and sometimes just said what he thought.

            “I am very glad, Darling.” Jehan replied with a little laugh from the bedroom where he was getting changed.  Feuilly waited for him to look away, then hurried quietly down the hall, sneaking up behind Jehan and giving him a massive hug, prompting Jehan to squeal and jump, startled.  He laughed and turned around, giving Feuilly a kiss on the nose.

            “I love you.” he said lightly.  Feuilly kissed his lip.

            “Daddy, can I—Oh sorry.” Lyle said from the door with a giggle, turning to leave when he saw Feuilly and Jehan mid-embrace.

            “Oh no, Lovely, come here!” Jehan said, opening his arms. Lyle hurried into the hug, and Feuilly and Jehan held him tight.

            “This is the best Christmas.” Lyle said quietly, closing his eyes against Feuilly’s shoulder.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~I don't know why, but I always felt like Jehan would come across as free-spirited, poetic, and completely unorthodox, and then would completely surprise everyone when they realize he is a practicing Christian...I guess I'm weird.


	4. Marius and Cosette's Christmas Bun

Cosette smiled when her father opened the door of his modest home.  
“Hello, my lovely little Lark.” He said quietly, embracing her. “And Marius!” Valjean gave him a hug as well before ushering them inside. “I’ve got dinner on.” He added, hurrying into the kitchen.  
“Please sit, Papa!” Cosette said with a smile. “I’ll help you.”  
“No, no, no! You and Marius have Christmas every year. I want to do it for you now.” He explained.  
“Thanks, Mr. Valjean.” Marius cooed from where he sat quietly on the sofa. Though he and Cosette had been married nearly six years, he still couldn’t bring himself to call Jean Valjean just ‘dad’.  
There was a clatter from the kitchen a moment later, and Cosette sprung to her feet, running into the kitchen and returning to the living room a moment later, pushing her father gently through the door and onto the sofa.  
“Cosette, I can do it! I dropped a pan! No harm done!” he tried to explain.  
“No, Papa, I will do it!” she insisted. “You sit.” She scurried back into the kitchen, leaving Marius alone with his father-in-law.  
Marius never really knew his father, and grew up with his grandparents after his mother died. Because of this, Marius was horribly awkward around older men. His grandfather was extremely wealthy, and only allowed Marius to call him ‘Monsieur’ or ‘Grandfather’, but nothing less. He was not allowed into his grandfather’s office, and was not permitted to speak to him at the dinner table unless he was spoken to. The old man was very old fashioned, and though he taught Marius impeccable manners, he had also crippled him socially.  
“She’s a spitfire, isn’t she?” Valjean said quietly with a bit of a chuckle. Marius shrugged. “How have you been?”  
“Fine.” Marius replied shortly with a meek smile.  
“Still working with the law firm?”  
“Yes.” He replied again, feeling his cheeks becoming hot and his ears turning red. His face nearly matched his hair when he was nervous or embarrassed, which was often.  
“You work with the other young friend of yours, don’t you? The one with the curly yellow hair?” he asked, meaning Enjolras. Marius had only worked with Enjolras very briefly after college, before Enjolras moved on and decided to be self-employed. It was a risk, but it worked out tremendously, and Enjolras and his family were well off, even without his wealthy parents. Marius was sometimes a bit jealous—Enjolras seemed so perfect—but he smiled anyhow.  
“I don’t work with him anymore. He’s self-employed now.” Marius explained.  
“Oh that’s right! I remember.” Valjean replied with a nod. “He was always a good young man…He and…oh what’s his name…They stop by the restaurant every Saturday morning for breakfast with their little boy, René.”  
“Oh Grantaire.” Marius said, filling in the name.  
“R! That’s right! Goodness Marius, I seem to be slipping in my old age!”  
“No. You’re alright.” He smiled, and Valjean returned the grin.  
“Dinner’s ready!” Cosette said, peeking out from around the kitchen door. “Marius, help with the plates, please?” she asked, placing the ham onto the center of the table before returning for more. Marius popped up and followed her, as did Valjean.  
“Marius, dear, I believe I left the sweet potatoes in the oven. Would you check?” Cosette asked with a sweet smile.  
“Oh sure.” Marius said. Valjean bowed an eyebrow at his daughter, but Cosette only smiled at him, continuing in to the dining room with the dish of green beans.  
“There isn’t anything in the oven except this…hamburger bun?” Marius said, opening the over. Valjean smiled and gave Cosette a hug when she returned to the kitchen. Marius looked horribly confused. “What? Is this a joke?” he asked, inspecting the hamburger bun, expecting it to explode or something.  
“What was in the oven, Marius?” Cosette asked.  
“This! This bun!”  
“Where was it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Marius.  
“In the oven! There was a bun in the oven—holy shit—”

And that was when Marius fainted directly into the Christmas tree.

—o0o—

About two hours later, Marius’ eyes fluttered open. He found himself in a stark white room in an unfamiliar bed, Cosette holding his hand and Valjean sitting on a chair near the foot of the bed. Marius sat up and looked around.  
“What happened? Why am I in a hospital room?” he asked, slightly startled, but more curious than anything.  
“Well…” Cosette began. “I told you I was pregnant and then you fainted into the Christmas tree and hit your head on the coffee table…You have a concussion.” She explained with a little smile. Valjean laughed quietly at the re-telling of the story.  
“Are you serious?” he asked. Cosette nodded.  
“Are you alright?”  
“Yes. Yeah! Yeah I’m great!” he said, seeming to come back to himself. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and gave Cosette a hug. “This is great! You’ll be such a good mommy!”  
“And you’ll make a lovely daddy, Marius. So long as you don’t faint on the baby.” She joked.  
“Merry Christmas, Marius!” Valjean added from the foot of the bed with a smile. Marius laughed.

 

 

~Surprise!

That was really short but I figured the surprise factor would make it count for more so yeah...Poor Marius. As someone who has fainted, I can tell you it is an extremely scary experience. At least my dad caught me instead of the Christmas Tree.....


	5. Christmas Morning with Enjolras and Grantaire (plus a few)

René was in his bed, unable to sleep, far too excited, his hair damp from his bath, his feet toasty warm in his snowman footy pajamas.  Even his sheets were festive: pale blue with Santas dancing through the snow, the occasional reindeer prancing beside him.  René traced one of them with his finger.

            Grantaire peered in through the door to see if René was asleep, and René sat up.

            “Papa is Santa here?” he whispered across the room.  Grantaire smiled and sat down beside René in his bed.

            “Santa won’t come unless you go to sleep.” Grantaire said. Enjolras stood in the doorway with a smile.

            “But I’m in my bed that counts as sleep, right?”

            “That’s not how Santa works, René.” Enjolras smiled, sitting on the opposite side of the bed, pulling René into his lap.  “You must be sleepy.”  René nodded against Enjolras’ chest, playing with his daddy’s loose curls. He yawned.

            “Why don’t we tuck you in?” Enjolras said with a smile.

            “No you have to stay here.” René cooed, sucking at the top of his thumb.

            “Oh René…Santa can’t come if we’re here with you.  Everybody has to be asleep in their beds.”

            “But how does he know?”

            “Santa knows everything.” Grantaire explained as Enjolras slipped René back under his fluffy feather comforter.  René’s eyes were heavy and he sighed lightly, hunkering down under the covers.

            “My sleepy baby René.” Grantaire cooed, combing his hand through the baby’s hair.

            “You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine…” Enjolras began to sing, his voice soft and clear.

            “You make me happy when skies are grey…” Grantaire began to sing with him, smiling down as René’s eyes fluttered.

            “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.  Please don’t take my Sunshine away.” They finished together. René was fast asleep, snuggled up under his cozy blankets, his stuffed elephant tucked safely under his little arm. Enjolras smiled up at Grantaire, his far-too-big sweatshirt (originally belonging to Grantaire) hanging off his petite shoulder.  Grantaire leaned over, pulling the sweatshirt back up on Enjolras’ arm, and stood up carefully, being sure not to wake the baby.  Enjolras followed behind, and the two of them tiptoed into the TV room, where their tall, skinny Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner. Enjolras sighed.

            “Guess we have to head down to pick up everything.”  He texted Courfeyrac:

Me> 8:56 – can we come down and get everything?

Courf>8:57 – go for it. Combeferre and I will help!

Me> 8:57 – thanks guys :) René will be so happy!

 

He smiled up at Grantaire.

            “Ready?”

            “Yup. I love Santa.” He smiled.

            “Me too.  I’ll stay up here in case René wakes up…I don’t want to leave him alone.”

            “Sounds good. I’ll be back!” Grantaire left the house quietly, heading downstairs. Combeferre stood with a cup of coffee in the kitchen, and Courfeyrac carried one final gift out of the closet.

            “Is he asleep?” he asked with a smile, walking over to hand Grantaire the box, holding onto his cane and using it to somewhat quell his limp. His brain injury had left him with a slight speech impediment and a limp the doctor said he would probably have for the rest of his life, but after a few months, he had accepted himself and worked with what he had.  He often made light of his cane, swinging it, poking people with it, making people laugh; and his speech problem was hardly noticeable.

            “He is asleep.” Grantaire smiled.

            “We’ll help you bring stuff up!” Combeferre smiled.

            “You don’t have to…” Grantaire tried to protest.  He knew the stairs could be difficult for Courfeyrac.

            “No we want to!” Courfeyrac replied, leaning into Combeferre. “We don’t get to be Santa for anybody.”

            “Maybe someday, Mon Amour.” Combeferre said with a smile, giving Combeferre a quick hug before picking up a mountain of wrapped presents and starting up the stairs.  Grantaire followed suit, and Courfeyrac shoved a box under his arm, his other hand occupied by his cane.  They paraded up the stairs, dropping the boxes off just inside the door where Enjolras was waiting before parading back down to get more.  Courfeyrac stayed upstairs with Enjolras and helped him place the gifts under the tree.

            “This is so exciting.” Courfeyrac said, handing Enjolras gifts to place under the tree.  All of the boxes were wrapped in different colored paper, some with snowmen, some with Christmas trees, some with red and white candy cane stripes.  Grantaire had artfully tied every one up with a fancy bow or pompom he made himself.

            “It is fun, isn’t it?” Enjolras agreed, straightening the bow on a box before placing it under the tree.  “This is one of the best things about being a dad.” He smiled.  Courfeyrac nodded, seeming almost sad, but he handed Enjolras another box to place.

            “I guess it’s sort of late for ‘Ferre and I…” he said after a long moment. Enjolras looked up.

            “It’s not too late at all!  You’re not even 30 yet!”

            “You don’t think so?”

            “No. Not at all.  Feuilly’s 30 and he and Jehan have Lyle.  Combeferre’s 29.  You’re 27. It’s not too late at all.” He smiled, giving Courfeyrac a hug.  “Talk to Combeferre. You’d make really great parents.” Courfeyrac smiled.

 

—o0o—

 

            “Daddy Papa Santa!” René squealed, running into Enjolras and Grantaire’s bedroom and sitting on Grantaire’s chest.  He woke up and gave René a sleepy smile, and Enjolras sat up.

            “Good morning, Sunshine.” He said.

            “Santa came right!?  We have to see!”

            “Let me get the video camera!” Grantaire said, standing and quickly running into the kitchen to get the camera.  They always filmed René on Christmas morning.

            “Can we come in now?” Enjolras called, holding René in his lap.

            “Yup!” Grantaire called, standing at the end of the hallway with the camera. René scurried into the room, followed by a laughing Enjolras. 

            “Wow look Daddy!  Santa came!” René was bouncing, just standing in the middle of all of his presents. He seemed in awe, unable to decide what to do with himself.  Enjolras called Combeferre and told him and Courf to come up.  They arrived in a moment.

            “Are you going to open them, René?” Enjolras laughed. He was still staring at the plethora of boxes.

            “Hm? Oh yeah!” René said, seeming to snap out of his Christmas-induced stupor.  He sat down carefully in the puddle of presents and got to work.

            “Unwrap the big one, René.” Combeferre suggested, sitting on the sofa next to Courfeyrac, his cane leaned up against the coffee table.

            “Okay!” René agreed, standing up to unwrap the box, carefully removing the ribbons.  “I bet Santa made all the ribbons!” he said.  Grantaire smiled and Enjolras kissed his cheek.  René pulled the snowman wrapping paper away from the huge box, revealing a massive pop-up tent, complete with windows and a flag.

            “Wow, René!” Enjolras mused.  “You could put that in your room!”

            “It’s really big!  And yellow! Santa knows yellow is my favorite!”

            “He must!” Grantaire smiled.

 

René continued opening his presents, receiving a small remote control puppy—which terrified the cat. He also received a brand new sketchbook and ‘fancy’ pencils like the ones his Papa used, a big book of illustrated fairy tales, flower seeds and a little flower pot for the window sill, and a pair of yellow high top Chuck Taylors; René had been asking for them all year. He also unwrapped an old iPod Enjolras found cheep on eBay, because he didn’t yet trust the five year old with a new one, as well as a pair of headphones to go with it.

            “We have one for you too, René!” Combeferre said with a smile, handing the little boy a box wrapped in paper covered in a moth print. René took off the bow and carefully unwrapped the box, pulling off the lid and revealing a new knit scarf, twice as long as René was tall.  It was bright yellow with white stripes, and he wrapped it all around his neck with a smile.

            “What do you say, René?” Enjolras prompted.

            “Thanks Uncle Courf and Uncle Combeferre!” he hopped into Combeferre’s lap and gave him a hug, then leaned over to Courfeyrac and hugged him as well.

            “You are most welcome, René.” Courfeyrac replied. 

            “This is from Mimi and Pepe.” Enjolras smiled, handing René another box, about a foot wide and tall.  René opened it carefully and smiled, open mouthed, when he revealed a box of army men.

            “Papa we can play army men now!  Real army men, not just three!” René raved.  Grantaire had given René a few plastic army men he found while looking for sculpture supplies.  He and the baby played with them in the bathtub, but René loved them, and played with them even when he wasn’t in the tub, balancing them on the faucet and on the windowsill.

            “Yeah! We can set them all up and play war!” Grantaire smiled.

            “There’s this little box too.” René said, opening the plastic box of army men and retrieving another wrapped box and opening it.  Inside was a chain with dog tags, one old and dented, the other brand new and shiny.

            “Wow, René!  Those are cool!” Courfeyrac said.  “What do they say?” René picked up the tags and did his best to read them, starting with the old circular tag.

            “This one says…Claude…257816.” René read slowly.  “That’s Pepe’s name, right Daddy?” René asked.

            “That’s right!  That’s Pepe’s old tag from the navy.” Enjolras smiled.

            “What does the other one say?” Grantaire asked with a grin. René looked to the new tag, and shortly looked up with a massive smile.

            “This one has my name!” he cooed.  “It says René Jehan!”

            “Are there numbers too?” Courfeyrac asked.

            “There’s…3102009.” He read.

            “That’s your birthday, René.” Enjolras explained.  “Very exciting!”

            “I really like this Christmas!” René cooed, standing and running to Grantaire, jumping into his lap.  Grantaire hugged him tight before placing him on the floor and standing.

            “Now it’s time for grown up presents.” He smiled.  Enjolras bowed his eyebrows as Grantaire retreated into his studio, coming out a moment later with three wrapped canvases. He handed one to Combeferre and one to Courfeyrac.

            “Can we open them now?” Combeferre asked.

            “Of course you can!” Grantaire said with a smile, hauling René back up to his lap.  Combeferre unwrapped his canvas—a 16x16 square—and smiled when the image was revealed. It was a perfect painting of him and Courfeyrac nose to nose, Combeferre making a funny face, his nose scrunched, and Courfeyrac laughing.

            “Grantaire this is wonderful!” he said, hugging the painting before standing and hugging Grantaire as well.  Courfeyrac opened his next, revealing a companion painting, this one a more serious image of the two of them smiling, Combeferre looking down slightly to meet Courfeyrac’s gaze.

            “These are great!” he smiled.

            “Glad you think so.” Grantaire grinned, handing the next, far larger portrait to Enjolras, who smiled meekly.

            “Grantaire, you didn’t have to—”

            “Eh. No big deal.  You know how much I like painting you.”  Enjolras rolled his eyes and unwrapped the painting with help from René, revealing a portrait of the three of them; Enjolras on the left, Grantaire on the right, and René in the middle, all of them smiling and embracing happily.  Enjolras covered his mouth with his hand and admired the painting.

            “That is beautiful, Grantaire.” Combeferre said with a smile.

            “I like the curly hair.” Courfeyrac added.

            “It’s perfect.” Enjolras smiled, leaning over the canvas and giving Grantaire a quick kiss while René played with his army men, already wearing his new dog tags.

            “Did you have a nice Christmas, René?” Combeferre inquired. René looked up at him and smiled.

            “The best one ever!” he cooed.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~I am a cheater and stole this chapter from the other story, but I figured it would work out so I just stuck it here.  I wanted to get lots of these chapters up before Christmas actually came, and I don't exactly have a ton of time, so I just copied this one.  Check out the other stories in the series if you want to read the story it's originally from :)


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